Using the mind for those things which matter

fiction

Rays of light pierced Lily’s apartment window. She stood inside the door, seeing Nathanael’s face in her mind. Dust particles floated in crepuscular beams between the walls. She perceived herself a type of Dickens’ Miss Havisham again—peculiar, unwed, alone, united only to literary characters few of her friends knew. Self-pity tempted her for a moment. Nathanael understood the literary canon, she believed, as did Thomas McDavid. And Lily believed Alice felt herself an intellectual, even literary, but she (Alice) read in accordance with trends. Hence, Lily’s reluctance to read the book on hearing from God Alice had lent her. Lily lived comfortably in Dickens’ Kent, on Bronte’s moors, and within Shakespeare’s kingdoms. At the mention of a character or phrase, her soul quickened at references to Pip, Catherine Earnshaw, or Prince Hamlet.

Naomi, a particular woman at a particular time and place, her hair black as a crow’s wing in Lily’s imagination, would soon gray, after the death of her husband; Ruth, perhaps like Lily, with brown hair, battling to believe God and her mother-in-law, on the rocky, dusty, perilous roads back to Bethlehem. The details mattered to Lily; they mattered, she believed, to God.

Lily became aware of the iPhone in her right palm. Suddenly it vibrated. She could smell Nathanael’s aftershave from where he had handled it, when she raised it to her right ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay, Miss Rood?”

“Donald?”

“Yes. Tim just stepped out and told me you’d left class. Are you okay?”

Lily fled hearing only her own footsteps. “I will be maligned,” she thought. Her pulse thrashed within her eardrums in ridicule. “They will mock me.” She hoped to evade Donald or any other deacons in Beulah’s foyer who might still be welcoming congregants. She thrust one of Beulah’s front doors open. The morning sun blinded her for several steps as she pressed towards her small car. When she entered, she realized she had left her iPhone on the chair inside.

Moments later her apartment came in view. She opened her door, dropped her purse and keys on the kitchen table, and collapsed onto her Queen Anne chair. Alice’s book about hearing from God lay upon the kitchen tabletop. Powerless, she bent forward over her knees and wept into her hands. Several minutes passed. She went to her bathroom and cleared her nose. She stared at her swollen eyes in her mirror. She crossed her apartment again and lay upon her bed and stared at the books upon her nightstand. She longed to be on the moors with Catherine and Heathcliff rather than in Glim with Beth Aims and Desiree Dramal. If Michael saw me now, he would say I look like Miss Havisham, she thought. She was surrounded by literary ghosts, she believed, visible only to her.

“Ms. Rood? May I come in?” Nathanael spoke firmly but calmly from outside her front door.

Lily shook and leapt from her bed and dashed towards her mirror.

“Nathanael?”

“Yes. You forgot your phone. May I come in?”

“How did you know where I lived?”

“Ms. Rood. I’m the headmaster. May I come in, please?”

When Lily opened her apartment door, Nathanael looked at her with complete solicitude. “Thank you. Your phone.”

“Thank you. Come in. I…am sorry, Nathanael. I don’t know—“

Nathanael took a couple of steps into the small foyer where he could see into Lily’s kitchen and into the living room. Books lined the walls. Surrounded by thousands of pages of words, yet she could not speak.

“It is alright. I am not here to pry. You have your reasons. Now you have your phone. I will return to Beulah.”

He turned to Lily’s front door. “I’m glad you’re at Covenant. We are better because of your presence. I remember my English teacher when I was your students’ age. Mr. Winthrop used to read Faulkner’s acceptance speech. He’d read those words about how ‘ . . . the basest of all things is to be afraid . . .'” and Nathanael ceased and turned to leave. Lily had read the same words to her students. Alice’s book lay upon her kitchen table like an oracle. Bronte, Woolf, and the Bard lay upon her nightstand, and Nathanael had come and was now departing, smiling solicitously at her. Already she bore the gravity of his absence.

Lily twitched birdlike at Nathanael’s touch. Nathanael was refined in his speech and manners, so Lily was embarrassed at her nervousness. The cantaloupe in her throat swelled.

“I did not mean to startle you,” Nathanael said softly, as Beth prattled.

“I’m sorry. Yes, Glim is fine. Finding my way, you know, my place.”

From his stool, Tim saw Beth make herself the focus of attention again but he was patient.

“Yes, of course. Desiree, welcome back. We are thankful you have come. And Alice, welcome,” Tim said.

Beth sat with both legs pressed firmly onto the classroom floor, arms akimbo on her hips, waiting for Tim to congratulate her.

“And Lily, welcome to you again, too. We are grateful you have all come. I think everyone else is our marrow. Glad to be gathered with you all,” Tim continued.

Beth glowered at Tim, crossed her arms over her chest, and the sleeve of bracelets on her arms looked to Lily like a brass Slinky toy.

Lily’s eyes twinkled when she looked amusingly at Nathanael. He sat composed with his coffee, apparently thankful for Tim’s acumen.

“We will resume in the story of Ruth this morning,” Tim said. He had a worn Bible on the music stand serving as a lectern and colored Post-its and bookmarks taped throughout with annotations. Suddenly Lily thought of her own Bibles and books of literature and writing in her classroom and in her apartment with their notes and her musings on her reading. She warmed to Tim more each time she came to Beulah.

“Let’s review, shall we? First, there was a famine in Judah, the hometown region, if you will, of the main characters—Naomi and her daughter-in-law, Ruth. Naomi, along with her husband and two sons, travels to Moab out of desperation. The sons married Moabite women. But Naomi’s husband and two sons die, and she is left with two Moabite daughters-in-law. She is a widow in the ancient Near East. She had gone seeking relief from the famine and instead found herself a widow, a decade later, with daughters-in-law, bereft, and longing to return to her home back in Bethlehem, in the land of Judah.”

“As I said last time, Tim. Remaining at home and fighting for what’s yours is often the best way. That’s what Naomi should have known,” Beth interjected.

“Really?” Tim asked. “You think that’s what is going on here? After all, Naomi’s husband, Elimelech, was taking his wife, Naomi, and their two sons to Moab in hopes of providing for them because there was a famine in Judah. Yet you think Naomi should have remained in a barren land to fight for what was hers? What exactly was hers? And what would she have been fighting for?”

Lily and Nathanael smiled to themselves and fought the urge to look at Beth.

“I just know that moving away does not win any victories,” Beth exclaimed.

Looking up from his Bible, Tim asked, “Do others have thoughts about this? Would Naomi, as Beth suggested, have been better off to remain and, as she said, fight?”

Nathanael sipped his coffee as if pleased with the class’s silent response. Lily stared at the empty seat between Nathanael and her; she wished it were not there.

“Tim, I know I’m a guest, but I see something here.” It was Alice.

“Yes, what is it, Alice?”

“It reminds me of a book I read recently about hearing from God.”

“Can you explain? I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Naomi was learning that hearing from God involves trusting his nature, especially when tragedy strikes.”

“That is excellent, Alice. Can you continue?”

“Naomi and her family were desperate. They left looking to God to provide for them. She was doing what any reasonable believer should do—go. Go, but go trusting God.

“And as she went, more tragedy struck. The men in her life died and she was now more destitute. But she was about to hear from God, even through the tragedies, right?”

“It is as you say, Alice. Thank you for that,” Tim said.

Lily pictured the unread book about hearing from God on her kitchen table and burned in shame.

Lily’s Adam’s apple transformed into a cantaloupe, she believed. Suddenly she felt unable to swallow. Beth’s voice crashed inside Lily’s ears and the ruined hair appeared garish gold under the Sunday school room’s fluorescent lights.

“Good morning, Alice. It’s nice to see you,” Lily said.

“You bet!” Alice said smiling.

Lily turned next to greet Desiree Dramal but was interrupted.

“Looks like someone finally got to a classroom before you,” Beth said. “I came early with two of my oldest friends.”

Lily smiled in silence at Beth.

“Ms. Rood, have you been visiting Beulah long?” Desiree Dramal asked.

“Since moving to Glim, yes,” Lily said. “And you?” Lily longed to elude being the subject of public conversation.

Desiree shifted one long leg six inches behind her as if she were coiling to strike. “Not exactly, Ms. Rood. My family and I are members of Beulah but we don’t feel obligated to attend as if that were more pleasing to God. We know better.”

Lily felt the cantaloupe in her throat again. Is it possible, she wondered, for Beth Aims and Desiree Dramal to be more loathsome? Did evil replicate more than good?

“Lily, welcome back. I’m glad to see you have met some more new friends.” Tim had seen Lily enter and disappear into the den of Beth, Desiree, and Alice.

“Thank you, Tim. I was eager to hear you teach again,” ignoring the part about new friends.

“We’ll be in Ruth again, okay. Anyway, I’ll let you ladies continue. Just wanted to welcome you back.” Tim walked back over towards his stool and lectern. Lily glimpsed Nathanael sitting where he had sat before when his parents came. Nathanael sat sipping coffee in equipoise and resumed a subdued conversation with Tim. Nathanael looked at Lily and smiled and said “Good morning” silently with his lips.

Lily walked over towards Nathanael and sat next to him with one seat empty between them, opened her Bible app again on her phone, and felt stares upon her. When she looked over towards Alice in hopes she had not hurt her feelings, Desiree Dramal had her right leg twisted around her left one like wild ivy vines around a tree. Lily felt the cantaloupe in her throat.

“Good morning, everyone,” Tim said, settling onto his stool behind a black music stand serving as a lectern. “What an impressive group we have this morning.” Lily felt her throat muscles begin to relax when the sound of metallic bracelets filled the air.

“Tim, I wanted everyone to see two of my dearest friends—Desiree and Alice. Please make them feel welcome,” Beth interjected.

Lily’s cantaloupe pushed against the walls of her throat as Nathanael touched her on the shoulder.

Lily awoke in the predawn. Mauve light bathed her bedroom walls and bed. She cherished early hours, especially sunrises, as if they declared messages. Her worn copy of Wuthering Heights had tumbled onto the bedroom floor beside the bed. Lily leaned over the side of her bed and retrieved the novel. She placed it on her nightstand beside the other books. She showered and dressed for Beulah. She brewed coffee and toasted an English muffin for breakfast. Finally she brushed her teeth and checked herself in her bathroom mirror again before driving to Beulah.

When she arrived at church, several cars were there. Deacons and elders, she assumed, came early to prep the classrooms and church grounds for Sunday’s services. The sun grew higher in eastern sky. Lily planned to sit in her car to gather her thoughts before going to Tim’s class. She opened her purse, retrieved her iPhone and checked her Bible app. She began to read. Suddenly the shadow of someone darkened her side of her small car, startling her. She looked up nervously from her car. Donald smiled down at her. Lily smiled and exhaled. She opened her car door and grabbed her phone.

“I hope I didn’t scare you, Miss Rood,” Donald said. “I saw you pull in and thought I’d be sure you were okay.”

“I won’t lie. You did scare me, but I’m glad it’s you,” Lily said.

“Hopefully coming to Beulah does not frighten prospects,” Donald said, smiling. “May I walk you in?”

“Yes, yes. Please. No, I enjoy Beulah very much, but I had some interesting encounters at Glim’s Wal-Mart. I’m skittish now.”

“Wal-Mart? Well, I’ve lived here before Wal-Mart came, and I went there as often before they came as I have since.”

Uncertain whether she understood Donald, Lily smiled and raised her eyebrows to signal him to continue.

“But you said you had an interesting encounter? I hope you were not in danger,” Donald said.

“I was accused by a couple of hitting their car door with my car door in the parking lot,” Lily said, “but I didn’t. I parked about as far away from the front as possible and this couple parked right beside me when there must’ve been four acres of parking lot they could have used.”

“Sounds like there’s more to this, Miss Rood. Perhaps we can continue over coffee this week with Thomas, if you have time,” Donald said. He opened the church doors for Lily and they both entered Beulah’s narthex.

“I’m old enough to be your father, dear. I don’t think there’s any danger of jealousy.”

When Lily turned towards Tim’s classroom down the corridor, she heard voices issuing from within. She checked her iPhone to confirm it was on silent mode and crossed into the class, looking for Tim and Nathanael.

“Lily!” Beth said. “Welcome back. So glad you came again. I’ve brought two of my oldest friends. You know Desiree and Alice, of course.”

The sounds of the soldier’s voice stayed with Lily. She heard his measured tone in her mind—the way he said “Likewise” when he donned his camouflage patrol cap when leaving Waffle House. It was now after midnight as Lily drove back to her place. The March night sky was clear. Tall pines lined the two-lane blacktop highway to Glim. She thought of the soldier from Waffle House, and of the embarrassing scene with Darlene, Brandon, and their LTD in the Wal-Mart parking lot early that morning. She bristled at the thought of encountering them again.

She thought also of why Desiree Dramal had asked her to work with the spring play. How and why was Desiree Dramal involved with theater? Had Nathanael prompted that? If Nathanael wanted Lily’s help with the theater department and the spring play, why had he not asked her himself? And why was Beth being allowed to work with Desiree at all concerning Covenant? Since Covenant’s board had replaced her, she should have no say concerning Covenant, right?

The tall pines flickered past Lily’s car windows on her return drive as rapidly as the questions flashed upon her mind. When she pulled into her place, it was nearly one a.m. She opened the apartment door. At once she saw Alice’s book about hearing from God on the kitchen table. Suddenly Lily felt ashamed for not having read and returned it to Alice. Lily knew Alice was sure to ask about the book again Monday.

Lily laid her car keys and purse on the small table by the apartment’s entrance and walked over to grab the book. She glanced at the back cover and read two of the reviews: “A feast for modern Christians discontented in their pews” and “A welcome antidote for an era when doctrinal wars have created spiritual orphans.” Lily rolled her eyes and returned the book to its place on the table. It was one a.m. and she had drunk too much coffee. She removed her shoes and checked her door. She began to undress. She lay upon her bed in sweat pants and t-shirt, and looked over at her nightstand bearing Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, and Shakespeare’s sonnets. She laughed at herself, at the absurdity of her day, and turned again to the moors where Catherine and Heathcliff thrashed in their doom.

She watched the soldier exit his truck. He was lean, six feet tall, with penetrating eyes, an angular face, aquiline nose, and brown hair trimmed close to his scalp. His gait fit his features—measured, nothing wasted. Lily sat alone in the Waffle House, sipping black coffee. She would have gone to the Cup-n-Saucer but it was very late. She had driven to this Waffle House off I-75, thinking she would be alone. But it was filled with customers. Lily was the only white woman there. The soldier pulled open the glass door methodically. No one looked up except Lily. The staff behind the counter pretended not to see him. The soldier stepped into the tiny waiting area, removing his cap simultaneously. No one said anything to him. Lily watched. Two minutes passed. Finally a large black man in a grease-stained apron at the far end of the griddle spoke to the soldier.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening,” the soldier returned.

No one else spoke to the soldier, but the din from customers at the countertop and tables was painful. The speaker above Lily’s table blared Prince’s “Purple Rain.” The soldier spotted an empty table from which a mustached Latino woman was slowly wiping crumbs. Lily sensed the soldier’s frustration at not being waited on. She grew nervous. The soldier was quiet and intense.

The empty table was adjacent to Lily’s. The soldier sat facing the door through which he entered. He looked up as he slid onto the slick faux-wood of the Waffle House bench seats. He folded his patrol cap and placed it in his right thigh cargo pocket. As he did, he surveyed the Waffle House again to see if he would receive service. He saw Lily watching him.

“Thank you for what you do. Welcome home,” Lily said.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ve been back for some time now.”

Lily surprised herself. She almost never initiated conversations, but she was drawn to this soldier. Finally a young girl approached the soldier’s table. She was a young black woman, just over five feet tall, with a lean athletic build. Her nametag read: Mera. When she spoke to the soldier, Lily saw how beautiful her smile was. Her teeth were a white picket fence inside dark brown skin.

“Sorry for the wait. What can I get you to drink?”

“Coffee, please ma’am. Black.”

“I’ll be right back,” Mera said.

Lily sipped her coffee and watched. The soldier watched the door and watched the other customers. It was after midnight but the restaurant was filled almost to capacity. The soldier had taken the last available table. He watched Mera fill the cup with black coffee and return. Lily tried to listen to the soldier, to see if he was ordering food when he spoke to Mera, but Lily could not hear him above Prince’s guitar. Lily realized she had come not to be alone but because she wanted someone to talk to, but it was late. She reasoned that because she was new to Glim, a coffee shop near the interstate would suffice.

The soldier raised his coffee cup, sipped, and turned towards Lily.

“Didn’t think it would be this busy this late,” he said.

Lily smiled. “Nor did I,” she said.

“You traveling?” he asked.

“Not exactly. I live near here now,” Lily said. She was nervous about revealing too much, but she trusted him already.

“How about you?” she asked. “You traveling?”

“Yes. I can make time better at night,” he said.

“I see.”

Prince’s metallic guitar solo ended and the next song was some contemporary R&B Lily did not know. The soldier seemed unaffected by the loud music. Mera appeared at the soldier’s table with a yellow pad and red Paper Mate pen. The soldier shook his head and Mera walked off politely after putting the yellow ticket on the soldier’s table.

Lily wanted to talk to him but floundered with how to continue. She did not wish to seem impertinent. She sipped her coffee, and watched him as able. The speaker above her table seemed to grow louder and louder. The cooks over the griddle hummed and swayed to the blaring song. The large man in the greasy apron shouted to one of the cooks over the griddle.

“Pull a sausage and drop one hash, while you dancin’ to Mariah Carey, Q!”

Without looking up, Q. kept up his rhythm, as if he had heard nothing but Mariah Carey squealing through the speaker.

Lily watched the soldier for any reaction to the volume, or to the other customers, but he betrayed none. The soldier rose from his table to pay for his coffee. Breunna, another young black waitress, was ringing up a male customer with dreadlocks woven onto his scalp, who was standing in front of the soldier.

Mr. Dreadlocks paid, grabbed his takeout order, and the soldier stepped in front of the register with a debit card and his yellow ticket. Breunna pretended not to see him standing there. Lily watched him. He had been ignored when he entered, and now this. Lily felt herself swallow.

The Mariah Carey shrieks continued to bounce off the walls of the Waffle House. Q. shouted, “Breunna, order up!”

Suddenly Mera stepped up behind the register and smiled her picket fence teeth at the soldier.

“I’m sorry for your wait, sir,” she said.

“It’s okay,” the soldier said.

The soldier paid for his coffee and left a tip three times the amount of the coffee. When Mera saw the amount, she smiled and turned her head towards Breunna, who pretended not to notice.

The soldier retrieved his patrol cap from his right cargo pocket and passed by Lily’s table. “Nice talking with you,” he said.

“Likewise,” Lily said. She watched him walk measured steps towards his truck, remove his cap, open the truck door, and enter. He left as he’d entered, measured and alone, with different ideas of service.